


A Magic Beyond All

by vix_spes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Getting Together, M/M, unusual careers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 15:25:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4881949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/pseuds/vix_spes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus had only planned to attend one appointment to placate Albus. He certainly hadn’t expected more than that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Magic Beyond All

“Severus, this has to stop.”  
  
Severus Snape, widely acknowledged as one of the UK’s greatest pianists, paused in the process of shaking some tablets out of an unlabelled bottle to fix his agent, Albus Dumbledore, with an unwavering gaze.  
  
“What has to stop, Albus?”  
  
“Don’t try and play innocent with me Severus. I’ve known you far too long.”  
  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  
  
“Severus.” For an old man, Albus could actually move rather fast. In no time at all, he had crossed the room and snatched the bottle out of Severus’ hands. “How many of these have you already taken today? Four? Eight? Twelve? You need to stop taking them, Severus.”  
  
“I can’t.” The words were ground out. “I can’t stop taking them. If I don’t take them then I can’t play.”  
  
“Severus, you could be doing yourself more harm than good.”  
  
“And I’ve told you. If I don’t take them, I can’t play, ergo I will continue taking them.”  
  
“Would it be the end of the world if you had to take a break for a while?”  
  
“Albus! How can you ask such a thing? Of course I can’t take time off playing; it would be disastrous.”  
  
“Severus, don’t be dramatic; it doesn’t suit you. This is the third recital you’ve given at the Wigmore this season; you’re hardly an up and coming young thing anymore.”  
  
“Precisely! How can I afford to take time off when there are dozens of young up and coming pianists snapping at my heels? I can hardly afford to become complacent.”  
  
“Severus, you’re exaggerating. You are a well-established and respected pianist who can afford to let the gruelling pace that you’ve been keeping for the last few years drop. At the very least, you need to go and see somebody so that you can stop taking all of these painkillers.”  
  
“Albus, I’m not sure. You hear stories about people who go to see a masseuse or a chiropractor and one wrong slip and they can’t play for months. That isn’t an option for me, not with the Proms coming up.”  
  
“Of course, of course, dear boy. That’s why I’ve taken the liberty of already booking you an appointment with someone. I’m an old friend of the family but he really is quite excellent - specialises in musicians. You’ll be in very safe hands. Now, I believe this lovely young man has come to tell you that it’s time, so I shall see you afterwards. I’ve booked us a table at Comptoir Libanais; there are some people that I want you to meet.”  
  
“Albus, you’re a meddling old coot.”  
  
And, of course, the man did nothing but give Severus a twinkly-eyed grin. “Toi toi, dear boy.”

  
~*~

  
The following morning found Severus full of trepidation as he opened the door to the address that Albus had handed him at the end of lunch the previous day. The property was a large three-storey Victorian townhouse tucked away in a pleasant corner of London and the basement floor clearly operated as the business. A small brass plaque next to the door proclaimed ‘The Gryffin Practice’, but other than that, there was no sign of the fact that a business was being run out of the building. More than anything, Severus wished that Albus had given him the name of the practice, or at least the name of the man who would be treating him. At least then he would have been able to do some digging, try to find some reviews and have some idea of what he was in for, however vague.  
  
He was pleasantly surprised when the doorway opened into a well-appointed waiting room, painted to make it appear light and airy despite its basement setting. Sinking into one of the rather comfortable chairs lining the room, Severus was pleasantly surprised to see, rather than the ubiquitous gossip magazines that normally furnished doctors’ surgeries, that there were instead high-end newspapers, a selection of magazines aimed at serious musicians and an assortment of concert flyers. There was even one for Severus’ own recital series across the city. However, the surprises didn’t end there.  
  
“Severus Snape?”  
  
Severus looked up from his perusal of the day’s edition of the _Daily Telegraph_ to see a man, much younger than he was expecting, standing over him.  
  
“Yes.” Severus stood, realising as he did so that he was at least a head taller than the younger man. “I’m Severus Snape.”  
  
“Nice to meet you, I’m Harry Potter.” The young man reached out and shook Severus’ hand before gesturing to the other room in the basement. “Please come through.”  
  
Looking around in curiosity as he moved into the treatment room, Severus was once again impressed by the professional atmosphere of the whole place. Much like the waiting room, this room was light and airy and dominated by the treatment table in the centre. In one corner was a desk with a laptop sitting on it, a small filing cabinet just to one side and two seats. Severus hovered, not entirely sure what he was supposed to be doing.  
  
“If you just want to take a seat, I’ll take some details before we get started.”  
  
“You mean Albus didn’t tell you absolutely everything about me?” Severus couldn’t quite keep the sarcasm from his voice.  
  
“It doesn’t matter what Albus told me; I prefer to get all of the details from my patients. Now, I know that you’re a pianist but why don’t you tell me what the problems are.”  
  
“I don’t have any…”  
  
“Severus, the second that you stood up I could see that your shoulders are at least two inches too high from the tension you’re carrying, so if you could tell me all of the issues now, then you would make things far simpler for both of us.”  
  
Severus raised an eyebrow, rather surprised by the younger man’s directness. “Very well. Albus is … concerned that I have an over-reliance on painkillers. The downside of being a constantly performing musician. Long hours, constant travelling and very little downtime; it’s all contributed.”  
  
“Okay, so where would you say that you keep most of the tension? Where do you feel the most pain?”  
  
“Shoulders, neck, occasionally down into my arms and wrists.”  
  
“How about your lower back? Any pain there? I know that chairs and piano stools aren’t always the best for posture.”  
  
“Yes, I suppose I do occasionally.”  
  
“Well, all of that was expected. If you’d like to take your shoes and top off, then lie down on the bed, head in the hole, we’ll get started. You’re not allergic to anything, are you? I generally use almond oil but I do have some plain stuff if you’re allergic.”  
  
Severus replied in the negative as he climbed onto the treatment bed, wriggling slightly until he was comfortable. He couldn’t help but jump as he felt Harry’s hands sliding beneath him to pull his trousers down a bit lower.  
  
“Sorry, just making sure that I’ll be able to get at your lower back without getting oil all over your trousers.”  
  
When Harry really started to work his hands over Severus’ back, Severus couldn’t help but tense up. It had been so long since he had had somebody else’s hands on his body. Harry’s hands were slow and steady but, even so, Severus was surprised by how much it actually hurt. The first few times that Harry hit a particularly bad spot, Severus had been unable to stop himself from swearing before quickly apologising. To his relief, Harry had just told him that it was fine and that he could swear as much as he wanted, he was used to it.  
  
If he was perfectly honest, Severus didn’t know how long he lay on the bed with Harry working over his back and shoulders. By the time that Harry started working down Severus’ arms to his wrists and hands, Severus was feeling distinctly uncomfortable on the table due to the swelling of a certain part of his anatomy. He had to hold back a moan of disappointment when Harry trailed his fingers up and down Severus’ spine several times before removing them completely.  
  
“There you go, you’re done. Now, I’ll just go and get you a glass of water. Take your time sitting up before you get dressed, you might be a bit light-headed. Try and drink plenty of water today and if you feel a bit bruised, feel free to take some painkillers.”

  
(~*~)

  
Three sessions in, Severus had managed to control his reactions to the feeling of Harry’s hands on him but he was now facing something a little more complicated. He was finding himself genuinely attracted to Harry. The younger man was an intelligent conversationalist with a sarcastic wit that had made Severus snort with laughter on several occasions. He was also incredibly attractive, the black fitted t-shirt and jogging bottoms showing off muscled arms and a delectable arse, not to mention setting off his green eyes to perfection.  
  
He couldn’t deny that the sessions were doing him good, though. He was feeling much more relaxed and he’d noticed a difference in his playing as well. Everything seemed to have an ease that it hadn’t had prior to his seeing Harry. Even Albus had commented on it, although of course he had been insufferably smug about it. The thing was, Severus would never have made the booking himself but now that he had actually seen somebody and seen the difference that it could make, he was seriously considering making it a regular thing.  
  
Just, maybe, he might ask Harry if he had any other recommendations for other massage therapists. It might be awkward as hell but, the truth of the matter was, while he wanted Harry’s hands on him, he certainly didn’t want them on him in a professional capacity. He wanted far more from Harry than a professional client/patient relationship but the real question was how he was going to go about it.

  
~*~

  
To say that Severus was reluctant about the evening’s events was an understatement, to say the least. He loved Albus dearly, as mad as the man made him on occasion, but the man entertained far too much for Severus’ liking. Even worse, he expected Severus to attend all of the soirees that he hosted. Severus didn’t mind attending the odd one but he disliked having to socialise and play nice with whomever had been invited to each event. Tonight’s event was a reception with a lot of industry types making up the guest list in the run-up to Severus’ Proms appearance in three weeks’ time so, while Severus knew that there would be plenty of interesting conversation on offer, it also meant that he had to present his public persona and be something approaching pleasant to people.  
  
Availing himself of a generous drink from Albus’ extensive collection of top-shelf alcohol, Severus hugged the shadows so that he could determine who was present and thus who he wanted to talk to and who he wanted to avoid at all costs. He slid quickly past Rufus Scrimgeour, the reviewer for the _Guardian_ , and Sybil Trelawney, who wrote a rather eclectic music blog, exchanging a nod with Horace Slughorn, the reviewer for the _Daily Telegraph_ as he did so. Settling himself in a corner partially hidden by Albus’ towering bookshelves, he saw the man himself deep in discussion with Minerva McGonagall, who would be conducting Severus as he played Shostakovich’s Second Piano Concerto. Slightly closer to him, he nodded cordially at Remus Lupin, a composer that Severus had been at college with and had collaborated with fairly recently. Remus was talking to someone who, despite having his back to Severus, seemed more than a little familiar.  
  
Severus had practically drained his drink by the time that Remus and his mystery companion had finished their conversation. He had dodged several conversations that he didn’t want to have, spoken briefly to a couple of the critics out of necessity and had a pleasant chat with Minerva that they had concluded by agreeing to meet to discuss the Shostakovich concerto in a couple of days. Feeling that he had done his duty, he retreated back to his corner just as Remus’ companion turned around to face him.  
  
“Harry!”  
  
The last person that Severus had been expecting to see here this evening had been Harry; clearly, Albus had been meddling again. Still, he was hardly complaining. Things might have felt slightly awkward from Severus’ perspective since he had admitted his attraction to Harry but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t relieved to see somebody that he actually liked at one of these events.  
  
“You sound surprised to see me, Severus. Albus seemed to imply that you knew that I would be here.”  
  
“No, he didn’t say anything but that’s typical Albus. He never tells me anything, just expects me to read his mind. Have you had a pleasant evening? I saw you talking to Remus but I wasn’t sure if you knew anybody here.”  
  
“I only really know Remus but then, I’ve known him for years. He was one of my teachers when I was at Junior Academy.”  
  
That bit of information rocked Severus slightly. They had talked, sharing bits of information about themselves before but this was one snippet of information that Harry had never mentioned; Severus definitely would have remembered!  
  
“Junior Academy? You were part of the Royal Academy? What study?”  
  
“I did, right up until I was seventeen. I was first study violin but I was in a motorbike accident when I was seventeen. After I’d finished all of the rehab, it became clear that while I could still play, I wouldn’t be able to withstand the rigours of an undergraduate degree, never mind a professional playing career. So I set my mind on a different career. I wanted to do something to ensure that other people didn’t have to stop playing like I did. And there you have it.”  
  
Now Severus was even more impressed and intrigued by the younger man. Harry must have truly been a gifted violinist to be a member of the junior department of the Royal Academy, and to have all of that ripped away at such a young age: if it had been him, Severus wasn’t sure that he would have been able to be so nonchalant about it.  
  
“Severus, it was a long time ago.” It appeared as though Harry was also capable of reading thoughts. “I dealt with it years ago and I’m absolutely fine with being the man behind the scenes making sure that other people can carry on playing.”  
  
“It’s an admirable sentiment. I’ve certainly appreciated your talents. So how do you know Remus?”  
  
“He was one of my tutors when I was at JA and when I had to give up music he agreed to be one of my referees for university. After that, we kept in touch and I kept him up to date with what I was doing. He’s actually sent more than a few clients my way, both students at the Academy – I give them lower rates – and professional musicians that he knows.”  
  
In a place that he knew well and clad in a bit more than just his trousers, Severus felt far more self-assured than he did when he normally saw Harry at his appointments. As a result, between that and another couple of glasses of Albus’ top-shelf alcohol, the conversation flowed freely between the two of them. They barely noticed when the room around them started to empty out as people drifted home or on to other commitments. But then, Harry started to make noises about early appointments and having to leave, so Severus decided to bite the bullet and ask Harry out, feeling more awkward than he had in a long time. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time that he had thought about asking someone out, let alone actually doing the deed. Had it always been this difficult?  
  
“Harry, I was just wondering if you fancied going out for dinner at some point? I know a few great little restaurants that we could go to,” Severus’ voice trailed off, not entirely sure what else he wanted to say. What he needed to say.  
  
“Severus, I’m sorry.”  
  
Severus’ heart sank. He had known that this was too good to be true. Already mentally castigating himself for putting himself in this situation, especially when he still had several appointments left with Harry, he nearly missed Harry’s next words.  
  
“I don’t date clients; it’s just one of my rules. It’s how I run a professional business.” Harry took a step forward so that he was completely within Severus’ personal space. “However, that doesn’t say that I’m not interested.”  
  
Severus stopped lambasting himself and simply stared at Harry. “You’re interested?”  
  
Harry leant forward and brushed a kiss across Severus’ lips. “I’m definitely interested; I’m just saying that it can’t happen now. We have two more sessions left. Ask me again after your last appointment. I can promise you that I’ll give you a different answer.”

  
~*~

  
Severus raised his head as he saw Minerva McGonagall coming towards him. One of the few world-renowned and world-respected female conductors, she would be helming the orchestra for Severus’ performance and, simply by her presence backstage, he knew that it was time for him to take to the stage. Rolling his shoulders one last time and marvelling again at the lack of tension, he nodded at Minerva and moved towards the door that led to the stage. Nodding at the stagehand that held the door open for him, he walked out onto the stage to the deafening sound of applause. It was a fairly unusual concert – almost entirely British with an English soloist, Scottish conductor and the BBC Symphony Concert – and the concert goers were keen to show their support.  
  
Unable to resist, Severus stole a glance at loggia box number seven, where a beaming Harry sat alongside a smug Albus and his guests. Severus returned the smile, hearing the confusion ripple through the Prommers standing in the auditorium. After all, Severus wasn’t exactly known for divulging any sort of emotion on his face. At best you might see a slight twitch of his lips. Holding on to the edge of the Steinway, he bowed and then took his seat, fiddling slightly with the height of the piano stool. Wiping his hands one last time, he nodded at Minerva and allowed himself one last thought before the orchestra came in and he was swept away by the music.  
  
If they were this surprised by a smile, how were they going to react to the news that he was dating?

**Author's Note:**

> If you would prefer to comment on LJ, you can do so [here](http://vix-spes.livejournal.com/210178.html)


End file.
